In the Fields of Sunrise
by Smut-Free-Author
Summary: Mere minutes ago, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. Draco looks to Luna for consolation, but will she hear him out like he thought she would? SMUT-FREE Draco and Luna
1. The Windowless Hall

Disclaimer: If you recognize it from Harry Potter, I don't own it. Thanks for reading and please review!

* * *

When she saw Hermione and Ron leave the Great Hall with just enough room for another person to be walking between them even though the space appeared to be quite empty, she stood up and scanned the room. She approached the Slytherin table, although it certainly didn't look like the Slytherin table, for witches and wizards of all ages and houses were seated there. Some were laughing, some were weeping, but a blonde trio were doing neither. There were looking around quietly as if they felt they didn't belong.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy," the older man shook when she tapped lightly on his shoulder, "may I sit here?" He cleared his throat in an attempt to speak and so she sat. "Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy." She said kindly, peering at the woman on the other side of Mr. Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy nodded. "Good morning, Draco." Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy looked expectantly at their son, who was seated in front of them from across the table.

"Good morning, Luna." He struggled. He looked back to his parents. "Mum, Dad, I think we should go home." Before they could heartily agree as Luna knew they would, she cut them off.

"Oh, no! You mustn't leave now. The house elves have just begun preparing breakfast. They're very quick." They did not argue. "Besides," she whispered to Mr. Malfoy, though she was sure that the other two could hear, "if you stay, they may be a little more forgiving."

Mr. Malfoy turned and looked at her, his eyes wide. He gulped and looked to his wife. Her lips became thin and she nodded. Draco rested his arms on the table, preparing to stay for a while longer. Luna took off her sweater and put it in her lap. Mr. Malfoy gaped.

"What a nasty scar you have." He whispered, perhaps more to himself than to her. He looked up her arm and to her exposed collar bones and neck. "They're everywhere."

"Oh, yes." She said simply. "I received them from your sister-in-law, actually. Oh, pardon me- your late sister-in-law, when I was brought to your manor." She brushed over the soft, raised, dark brown lines on her forearm with her dirty fingers. "She fancied that whip."

Mrs. Malfoy reached across Mr. Malfoy and handed Luna a white handkerchief. It was embroidered with a lovely black 'M'.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy." Luna said, petting the soft fabric and tracing the 'M' with her finger.

"Narcissa," she whispered, a tear peaking from the corner of her eye. She swallowed and said, "I think you're right about the house elves. They're very quick. Breakfast is starting to appear. I thought you might want to wipe your hands." She nodded to the handkerchief.

"Oh, why, yes. Thank you, Narcissa." And just then, a gold plate appeared along with at least three-hundred more. Dishes of breakfast items popped up among them. The tapping of a glass was heard near the front of the hall. Professor McGonagall stood at the podium. A hush fell among them.

"Good morning dear students, colleagues, friends," she said, "and yes, it is finally morning." She sighed and looked about the hall. "As much as I adored the windows of the Great Hall, I must say that the sun shines so much better without them here." Everyone looked around at the window frames laced with jagged pieces of remaining glass. Beams of soft golden light glided through, making every single face glow with warmth. "I would like to thank you all for fighting, thank you all for your sacrifice, and thank you all for you faith. Never has Hogwarts seen so much destruction, so much evil, or so much loss, but neither has it ever seen so much courage, determination and love. Now, as our good friend Albus Dumbledore would have said, 'Tuck in!'"

The hall erupted with applause, fresh sets of sobs and a standing ovation that reduced Professor McGonagall to tears instantly. Luna clapped until her palms were red. Draco rose unashamedly, also clapping. Slowly, Narcissa rose, wiping her tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. And perhaps last to rise was Mr. Malfoy who covered his mouth and nodded vigorously with closed eyes.

When they had all recovered, they sat down to a long-awaited breakfast. Luna had thought it was the best she had ever tasted, but perhaps that was just due to the taste of victory that refused to leave her smiling mouth. Halfway through, someone placed their hands on her shoulders.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed and she flung herself into his arms. He twirled her about and laughed, kissing her dirty cheeks with joy.

"Oh, Luna," he whispered into her hair when he had finally set her down. "My Luna, I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Daddy." She said. "Come, sit. I'm having breakfast with the Malfoy's." She took him by the hand to the bench. "Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy? Would you mind scooting down a bit so my father might join us?"

"Not at all," he said, surprisingly cheery. He stood and shook his hand. "Good morning, Xenophilius."

"Ah, it certainly is, Lucius," he said, sitting on the other side of Luna, "a beautiful morning." He peered down the table. "Good morning, Narcissa."

"Good morning, Xenophilius." She said warmly.

"And to you, Draco." Xenophilius said, extending his hand to Draco across the table.

"Of course, Mr. Lovegood." Draco said, shaking his hand.

"Please, call me Xenophilius." Draco was about to observe his request, but Xenophilius gasped. "Oh, Great Scott, Luna!" He traced one of the scars on her jaw. "Who did this to you?" The Malfoy's went starch-white.

"Oh, I got them from Bellatrix Lestrange when she took me away. I was taken to the Malfoy Manor, actually, with a goblin from Gringotts named Griphook and Mr. Ollivander." She saw her father's shoulders tense. "But not to fret, Dad, all has been forgiven in my book." She looked directly to Draco, and to her satisfaction, he caught her eyes, but then looked away, thoroughly grateful, but dreadfully confused.

When breakfast had been finished, Professor McGonagall returned to the podium to discuss various orders of business.

"Students, you are free to return to your dormitories to gather what might be left of your belongings. The remains of the castle have been stabilized, so the ground will not fall out from beneath your feet, but be wary nonetheless. The Hogwarts Express will be arriving in an hour's time, should you choose to board it." She looked wrung her hands with angst as if she didn't want her words to be true. "You must all return home now. No exceptions." She nodded and straightened up. "A time to repair the grounds will be in order soon enough and should I require your assistance, I will contact you by owl post. Quills, inkwells and parchment have been set out behind me at the staff table should you need to contact anyone. If you have any personal concerns, I will be in the headmaster's office." She sighed, pushing a black tangled tendril behind her ear. "I thank you again. It was very nice to see you all, I just wish it would have been under more pleasurable circumstances."

The hall began to rumble with the sounds of quills on parchment, shuffling feet and teary farewells. Students began to creep cautiously out the hall for the first time since the fighting had stopped. Teachers were returning to their offices to gather up their books and files. Crowds were starting down the trail to the boarding station to await the Hogwarts Express. In a manner of minutes, the hall was nearly empty.

"Draco, I suppose you should go get your things, dear." Narcissa said, standing up and pulling her cloak over her shoulders.

"And you should do the same, Luna." Xenophilius said. Luna nodded. "I'll meet you at the boarding station, alright?" He kissed her head.

"Let's go, Draco." Luna said. He looked at her blankly.

"That's a good idea, Draco," Mr. Malfoy said, "why don't you meet us at the boarding station?" Draco nodded and departed with Luna into the Entrance Hall.

"Do you mind if we go to the Ravenclaw tower first?" Luna asked Draco. "There's portrait on the fifth floor I need to speak to."


	2. The Fifth Floor

The fifth floor corridor was very much empty, except for at the end of the hall where the winding stairs to Ravenclaw tower began. The leaded glass had been blown out of the windows and wall tapestries were still smoldering on the floor. The walls that had once been covered in portraits of admirable Ravenclaws were now blank, except for a lone frame that Luna walked over to.

"Nana?" She asked quietly. The frame was empty, but had someone been occupying it, they surely would have been sitting at the desk in the middle. "Nana, it's Luna." Then the head of a short blonde witch appeared. She peered cautiously into her frame. Luna waved and she came all the way in, beaming.

"Luna, my girl, you've done it!" She cried joyously. "Oh, I'm so proud of you!" She wore robes of pale purple embroidered with silver roses. Many thin bands of silver adorned her fingers.

"Thank you, Nana." Luna said. "I just came to report. It's over. Harry did it."

"Oh, I saw, my dear! I snuck into Madame L'Brelle's portrait in the Entrance Hall! I could see right into the Great Hall!" She whispered, sitting at her desk. "She told me long ago that she had her grandsons stick her frame to the stone for good. And a good thing she told me that, too, or I would have never had thought to have you stick me to the wall like she had been!"

"So you stayed alright?" Luna asked.

"Oh, yes! Didn't budge! A nice bit of magic! Well, done, Luna! Good girl! Clever and skillful, just like your mother." She smiled down at Luna. "She would have been so proud of you, so proud of your loyalty, so proud of your dueling- oh yes, your dueling! So quick! So smart! Oh, my girl, you're a dream." She sighed. "Oh, Luna, who is this?" She asked, eyeing Draco, who had been watching silently.

"Oh, Nana, this is Draco Malfoy." Luna said, beckoning Draco over to her. "Draco, this is my great-grandmother, Evangeline Lovegood."

"Pleased to meet you, Madame Lovegood." Draco said, bowing a bit.

"And you, young man." Said Madame Lovegood. She scanned him, looking at his expensive, black robes. She searched his face with thin eyes and nodded. "A Malfoy, hmm? Well, what do you intend to do as a profession, young man?" To her apparent pleasure, he didn't have an answer. "Oh, dear, you know that you can't just live off your family's money all your life. The wizarding world already hates your name- and yes, I know what you and your father have done, we portraits hear it all- why give them another excuse to? Support He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named all your life, repent, go free and then never repay society by living off the fat of the land for the rest of your days? Disgraceful!" She turned her nose up at him. Draco bowed his head. "Oh, but don't fret, dear." Madame Lovegood said, much softer now. "I know you're sorry. Luna sees it, too. Why, that's why we're Ravenclaws! We have an eye for these things. He's not all that terrible, now is he, Luna?"

"No, he isn't." Luna said simply. Draco looked at her. "He's not terrible at all." She met his eyes and smiled faintly.

"But don't get a big head about it." Madame Lovegood said. "You will have to do a lot of work to earn the respect of most, those who just aren't as fortunate as us Ravenclaws. Oh yes, you must earn it. You must apologize and give back. The people would like to see you sweat a bit for your lifestyle, rather than just inherit your father's gold." She eyed him again. "What do you think, Luna? Would he make a good healer?"

Now Luna eyed him. She wrinkled her eyebrows and thought a moment. Her lips curled up at the ends and she nodded.

"Yes, I think he would, Nana." She said, turning back to the portrait. "He's got the pity for it, and surely the courage."

"How right you are, my girl." Madame Lovegood swelled with pride. "Perhaps you should look into it, young man." Draco nodded.

"Pardon, Nana, but we must be going." Luna said. "We're boarding the Hogwarts Express in an hour."

"Oh, but of course! And I should go see Madame L'Brelle. I should thank her. Tell your father I send my salutations!" Madame Lovegood stood up from her desk. "I love you, Luna. I'll see you soon."

"I love you, too Nana." Luna said.

"Pleasure to meet you, Madame Lovegood." Draco said.

"Ah, yes. You too, young man." She replied. "And think about what I said!" She called after them, waving, as they headed to the stairs and Madame Lovegood disappeared from her frame.

"How does your great-grandmother have a portrait in Hogwarts?" Draco asked.

"Oh, she was a healer in the Hospital Wing like Madame Pomfrey, but a very well known one." Luna said. Draco snorted. "Oh, no. She's not just shining good light on her own profession. I think you'd make a good healer, too. That, of course, is up to you, though."

They walked on upwards in tight spirals until they reached the place where the door should have been, but all that was left were the bronze hinges that had once held it there. The Ravenclaw common room was in ruins. Books were strewn all about the smoldering carpet. Chairs black from flame were broken and overturned. The curtains hung in heaps below glassless arched window frames. The large marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw had been shattered and parts of her lay here and there. The worst of the damage, though, was the ceiling and the fact that it had been blown off. It now exposed the late morning sky.

"Wait here." Luna said and she headed up a flight of stairs to the girls dormitories.

Draco wandered over to the window. The view of the mountains was spectacular. He figured that the Ravenclaws must have had a wonderful view of the sunrise. From there, he could see the path to the boarding station. The train hadn't arrived yet. He had always loved the train ride to and from Hogwarts, but this time would be different. It would be his last time. He would leave Hogwarts forever, and in such state, too. He looked at the grounds, littered with fallen pillars and chunks of brave statues that had defended their castle and even the leftover body of a Death Eater here and there. A pang of guilt hit him. He had known so many that had been lost on both sides, but he grieved one more than the other.

He turned when he heard steps coming down the stairs. Luna was stuffing a book into a small gray rucksack.

"Well, I suppose you lead the way." She said. "I've never been to the Slytherin rooms."

"They're not like this," he said, still finding himself admiring at what was left of the beautiful Ravenclaw common room.


	3. The Dungeons

Draco led her down the labyrinthine passage. They came to a stone wall.

"Death Eater." Draco whispered. The stone opened to reveal the Slytherin common room. It was very much intact, seeing as it was underground. The most severe damage was a bookshelf that had toppled over. All the ceiling lamps had fallen to their deaths and the great fire place whose fire had never gone out in a thousand years what black as night. Draco could barely see a thing. "Careful, Luna." He cautioned, nearly stumbling over an overturned chair. He found his way over to the stairs that descended into the boys' dormitories. "I'll be right back."

Luna sat down in a high-backed ebony chair that much resembled a thrown. She closed her eyes. She had not admitted it to herself or anyone else, but she was exhausted. She couldn't wait to get home, to just crawl into her bed and sleep. Apparently, she really couldn't wait, for she dozed off quite quickly and was muttering dreamily when Draco returned with his black messenger bag.

He checked his watch. They had half-an-hour till the train left. It was a fifteen minute walk down. He sat in the chair across from her and figured he could let her sleep for quick minute. Gazing about the common room, he wished it had been a little more torn up. It didn't look like a war had happened here. It looked like the morning after a lively party. Of course, he thought, the Slytherin territory had appeared the most untouched. Most of the Slytherins themselves went untouched. Nearly every one of them had Disapparated in the Great Hall before the battle began.

"Think of something happy..." Luna trailed off, her head rolling to the other side. He smirked and began to follow her orders.

Nothing came to him. He thought about when he'd knocked Potter off his feet in second year at the first dueling club session, but then he remembered that he had done it out of malice, and it brought him no joy. He remembered being named a prefect in fourth year, but then he had abused his position, and looking back on it, he rather regretted doing so. He recalled all the praise he had received when Umbridge was around, but then he also recalled how he'd made it hell for Potter and his Dumbledore's Army friends, and how he had always had a faint sense that they were making the right decisions and not him.

This troubled him deeply. Had he had no truly happy memories? Memories that he didn't ruin for himself later? Happy days that weren't because of another's misfortune?

To avoid seeing any more truth, he checked his watch. They had twenty minutes. He wondered how to wake her. Should he just prod her, or whisper in her ear? Or perhaps take her hand and give it a squeeze? He got up and knelt by her. He gave her arm a gentle shake.

"Luna," he said softly, "Luna, we have to get going." She started to come around. "The train leaves in twenty minutes. Come on." She opened her eyes and straightened up.

"Sorry, Draco." She said. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand as she picked up her rucksack. They were soft and cool against his skin. She looked back at him and took his hand in hers. "Your hands are very warm." Luna said thoughtfully. She let go and stood up. "Well, we best be off." He nodded, his mouth gaping a bit.

They left the Slytherin common room and came into the Entrance Hall. Draco turned suddenly to Luna as they stepped into the wrecked courtyard.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" He asked blurted out.

"In Professor Dumbledore's office." Luna replied politely.

"Wait for me here." He said and he sprinted back into the castle and up the stairs. The gargoyles in front of the headmaster's office were lying on the floor. Before he could ask, they allowed him to knock.

"Come in." Said Professor McGonagall. She was writing away at the desk. Just as Draco shut the door she set her quill down and peered at him over her spectacles. "Is there something I can do for you, Malfoy?"

"Yes, Professor," he replied, a bit out of breath, "will Hogwarts be open for the next term at the end of the summer?"

"Why, yes, I do think so." She said. "Why?"

"May I repeat my seventh year?" He asked more loudly and quickly than he had meant to. She eyed him suspiciously, then got up and paced behind her desk. She stopped in front of a large portrait above her and looked at him.

"I think so, don't you, Albus?" She asked him. Dumbledore nodded, his mustache quivering with amusement. She turned back to Draco and sat down. "Oh, yes, I suppose so." She said. "You'll receive your list of required materials like everyone else in late July, perhaps early August." She sighed and shook her head, picking up her quill and placing it to the parchment again. "Will that be all?"

"I'm sorry." He said solemnly. The scratching of her quill stopped. Her eyes froze on the page.

"You are forgiven." She said quietly. "You may go now, Malfoy."

As Draco closed the door, he saw Dumbledore cross into a smaller portrait next to him and whisper to another old Hogwarts headmaster, whose face was revealed as he lifted his head and his shoulder-length black hair fell back. He adjusted his long dark robes and smirked at Draco. Dumbledore waved farewell, and Draco left the office.


	4. The Train Ride Home

"Luna," Draco said, "why do you forgive me?" He turned his head to her, but she just kept looking down the trail.

"Because you're not evil." She answered matter-of-factly. "I'm not saying that you're not other things, too, but you're certainly not evil."

"What do you mean by 'other things'?" He asked cautiously.

"Deceitful, sneaky, and traitorous in your own ways." She paused. "Scared, tired, confused, angry and sorry." Draco grew frustrated.

"If I am all those other things, then how can you forgive me?" He asked. "How can you take pity on me?"

"Because remorse topples it all." She shrugged. "Imagine if Voldemort had felt remorse. All this might have never happened." She sighed. "But he didn't. He was too selfish. And that's what you are not. At least, right now you're not. You are not selfish. You can't be selfish and be sorry."

"But I am, though." He thought about the cursed necklace and how Katie Bell had to be admitted to St. Mungo's and the Christmas present that Slughorn had never gave to Dumbledore, but instead to Weasely, who had to be hospitalized for days.

"No," Luna said, "you _were_ selfish. You aren't now."

"And how do you know?" He asked angrily. "You would die if all told you all the terrible things I've done! You'd hate me!"

"No, I wouldn't. I'd only hate what you did, not you."

"So you don't hate me?" He asked, defeated, but glad.

"No, Draco, I don't."

"Thank you."

They continued along the path in silence. Soon, a puff of steam appeared above the trees and a jumble of voice could be heard. People were boarding, shuffling into their compartments and opening the windows. Xenophilius and the Malfoys were waiting for their children.

"Ready, Draco?" Narcissa asked.

"Is that all that was left, Luna?" Xenophilius asked. She nodded.

"Yes," said Mr. Malfoy, eyeing Draco's messenger bag, "was that all that was salvageable?" Draco nodded, but he was lying. The dormitories, being even deeper down than the dungeons, had been fine, but Draco didn't want to take many things back with him. He had only picked up any book that had been in his trunk. "Ah, what a shame." Mr. Malfoy said.

The warning whistle blew and they hopped on, but there was no compartment that could fit them all together, and so the Lovegood's and the Malfoy's were separated for the ride back to London. When they arrived at King's Cross station, though, Draco caught sight of Luna.

"Luna!" He called out, but she didn't hear him. "Luna!" He called again. She turned this time, waving. "Write to me!" He shouted above the crowd. He lost sight of her. Scanning heads, he couldn't pick her out and he worried that she hadn't heard him. It was too late to go searching for her, though. Mr. Malfoy began steering him and Narcissa toward the barrier.


	5. Letters of May

It had been two weeks and Draco had not received a letter from Luna. He took it as that she had simply not heard him over the roar of the busy station when he asked her to write to him, and he certainly did not think it too much of a problem to then write to her first. It really didn't matter, he supposed, as long as they were corresponding. And so he sent the following letter out with his mother's owl.

_May 17__th__, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_I hope you are well. I apologize for not being able to give you a proper farewell at King's Cross._

_It was a pleasure meeting your great-grandmother. She's very sharp. I have been considering what she said about me making a decent healer and I just don't think it's for me. It was very nice of her, though._

_Well, I was just wondering how you were. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

He would not have corresponded with her at all, really, had it not been for one thing: she was probably the only person in the wizarding world who would listen to him. Or, perhaps, that was not entirely true. His mother would have listened and Madame Lovegood might have also, but Madame Lovegood was miles away and his mother was just too close. On another account this was untrue. It was not that Luna was the only one left in his mind and he merely felt obligated to write to those who would listen, but she was the only one he wanted to be left. She was the only one he wanted to be listened to by. And above all, he genuinely wanted to write to her.

So as you can imagine, he awaited her reply with eagerness. However, it never came. A week rolled by and his mother's owl had long returned from her delivery flight empty-handed. So Draco wrote again.

_May 25__th__, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_Perhaps you did not receive my first letter, although that seems highly unlikely now since owl post is no longer being intercepted by the Ministry. Anyways, I was just keeping in touch._

_How are you? I hope you're well. I'm getting along. _

_Hope to hear from you soon. Tell your father I say hello and that I have subscribed for the Quibbler._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco tried to occupy himself as he waited. He'd sometimes sit in the garden and watch his mother tend to her roses. Occasionally, he'd let his father show him his valuable collection of rings like he had done so many times, never losing pride in their beauty and backstory. He quite often, though, found himself in the family library, looking up anything that had to do with healing, be it remarkable healers or incantations for bothersome colds.

It was at the library window an unfamiliar blonde owl appeared. She rapped on the glass. Draco jumped up and threw up the sash. She hooted and dropped a large yellow envelope at his feet. After she received her pay, she soared out of sight and Draco barred the window. He tore the envelope open and inside was a copy of the Quibbler. The cover image was that of the smoldering Hogwarts Castle and the headline read: "THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS - MAY 2ND, 1998". He saw in the side column a picture of Potter, an old school portrait of a rather handsome young man, and the page on which the obituaries started. As he flipped past an advertisement, he saw the shimmer of yellow-blonde hair. A picture of Xenophilius and Luna was in the corner above the editor's note. Xenophilius kept kissing the top of her head. She giggled and hugged him.

He went on to read all about the damage the castle had received, Tom Riddle's transformation into Lord Voldemort and he read every single obituary. Then he returned to his room and carefully stowed it away in a trunk at the foot of his bed. By then it was late into the night. He had missed dinner while he was reading in the library. A wave of affection spread over him as he thought that his mother must have looked in at some point to call him for dinner as she often did, but refrained from bothering him so that he might not stop reading something so very important. She had recognized that by reading every word of this issue of the Quibbler, he was paying a portion of his respects to the war he had not quite helped, but neither suppressed.

His dreams that night were filled with the sounds of explosions, the smell of smoke and the feeling of being buried alive. Everything was shaking and he saw the lanterns in the Slytherin common room unhinge and fall from the ceiling with a crash. Wincing, he saw the white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw blast apart. He saw the mangled bodies of his peers, and though in some cases he had never spoken to them in seven years of schooling, he grieved for them and saw their blood on his hands. His hands... the hands that Luna had held and said were very warm... the hands that were indirectly guilty of murder. The following morning, he woke up with clenched fists. In the night, his nails had dug into his palms so much that they left little bloody half-moons in his skin.

_May 31__st__, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_I got the newest issue of the Quibbler yesterday. I read it cover to cover. It was great and all, but it gave me same bad dreams, I think. I kept seeing the Ravenclaw common room. I saw the curtains catch fire, then the arms chairs, then the bookshelves. The ceiling exploded and then the statue did, too. I kept on hearing the Dark Lord like when he was looking for Potter, when his voice was really loud and it felt like he was in your head. It was bad, Luna, really bad._

_Well, anyways, please write back. I want to know if you're alright. I don't think I'm the only one having bad dreams about this whole thing._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_


	6. Letters of June

_June 7th, 1998_

_Dear Draco,_

_I am well._

_We have finally finished repairing the house. It looks as if it never blew up. We even put up a new fence and planted two more crab apple trees. Now all I have to do is repaint my walls and cieling._

_Daddy received the Order of Merlin: Second Class from Kingsley Shacklebolt for his efforts in the war. Shacklebolt thanked him for publishing the truth. He said Daddy kept the morale alive these past three years and inspired many to see sense. We have the plaque hanging in the kitchen._

_As I said, I am well. I'll start up my painting soon and continue to read your letters. I like getting letters from you._

_Sincerely,_

_Luna Lovegood_

However, this letter would never be sent to Malfoy Manor. Luna had sent the Malfoy's black owl back on its way reply-less earlier that afternoon upon receiving another letter from Draco. She now sat at her desk, carefully folding the parchment and sliding it into an envelope. Luna wrote Draco's name on the front and her own in the top-left corner, then stowed it in the bottom drawer of her desk with a stack of similar envelopes.

* * *

The following week, Luna received another letter from Draco by the way of her father. There was a knocking on her door.

"Luna?" Xenophilius said.

"Come in, Daddy." Luna called. The door creaked.

"Luna, have you been getting post from Malfoy Manor?" He approached her with an opened envelope.

"Yes," Luna said, picking up a swatch of red paint with her brush. "Why?"

"I've just received a letter from Draco Malfoy asking if you have been getting his owls alright- ooh, is that going to be that Weasely friend of yours?" He eyed her canvas with a smile.

"One of them, yes." Luna said. "Ginny." She painted a streak of straight red hair. "Anyways, yes, I have been getting his letters."

"He says here that he hasn't been getting any replies."

"Oh, no," she sighed, "I suppose he hasn't."

"Well," he said, dropping the envelope on her desk, "I sent their owl back, but Eckonus is home to send out. He's in his cage." He headed for the door. "Luna, why haven't you been replying to him?" But she just shook her head with a look of pleasant indifference. He nodded and left. The door creaked closed.

She glanced over at her desk. 'Later,' she thought, and returned to her painting. And I will tell you, as not to worry you, that she did, indeed, read it and write out a reply, but it was never sent.

* * *

Luna bolted up right. Then it sounded again - a scratch at her window. Something was seated on her flower boxes, fussing about in the night. She threw off the covers and grabbed her wand from the bedside table.

"Lumos," she whispered. She shined the light at the window. A black owl squinted. Luna breathed a sigh of relief and turned out the light. She lit the candles at her desk and then lifted the sash, letting the Malfoy's owl in.

It perched on the back of her chair and let its letter be untied from its leg, without the slightest sign of discomfort. It took the knuts that Luna offered and set out again into the night.

Luna closed the window and sat down at her desk. She noticed that envelope's opening had been wrinkled, as if the writer had been in a hurry to close it and send it off.

_June 21st, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_My father has been taken to Azkaban. Shacklebolt and the lot took him just now. They showed up with Aurors. Shacklebolt said they couldn't take me because I was forced to become a Death Eater, I was underage at the time I got the mark and they talked to Dumbledore's portrait at Hogwarts. He said no._

_Mum cried. And she hasn't stopped. Dad's to wait in Azkaban until his trial in August._

_I should have been taken, too. It doesn't matter how old I was or whether I was forced to, I still took the mark! I still have it! I should be in Azkaban, but they won't take me! My crimes were just as bad as any other Death Eaters! I don't deserve this, Luna. I don't deserve this torture. Why can't I be punished?_

_I don't deserve their forgiveness, and I certainly don't deserve yours, if it's still there._

_Draco_

She pulled out a piece of parchment and her quill and wrote.

_June 21st, 1998_

_Dear Draco,_

_You will always have my forgiveness._

_Luna_

As much as Draco would have loved to receive this, you must now realize that he would not. So it was sealed in an envelope and placed in the packed bottom drawer of Luna's desk.

* * *

Luna sat on the edge of her bed in front of her easel. She was putting the final details on the portrait of Harry that would replace the one that was ruined when the house exploded. Ginny's had been framed and was mounted to the ceiling next to Ron's. The siblings gazed down at her, seeming to breathe, as she painted Harry's eyes his electrifying shade of green.

A breeze from the open window rustled the pages of a book that lay open on her desk, and on the wings of the wind, a black owl flew in.

"Oh, hello," she said as it landed on top of her dresser, "what have you got for me today?" She untied the envelope and offered the Malfoy's owl a piece of toast she hadn't finished at breakfast. She read as it pecked away.

_June 28th, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_I'm beginning to wonder if you ever even read my letters, that is, if you receive them at all. I wrote one to your father, but he didn't reply. Like father like daughter, I suppose. I'm sorry, that was rude. This is just really, really frustrating. I wish you would write back._

_As it seems I'm writing to a door knob, I don't mind stating the obvious. Dad hasn't returned. I knew he wouldn't yet, but then it still seems strange that he's gone in the first place. We can't correspond with him and there are no visits in Azkaban, so there's no way of contacting him. Mum is just praying now that he'll survive until his trial. We haven't heard when in August yet. We haven't heard anything._

_I broke into his office the other day. It was rather difficult, but I managed after an hour of guessing passwords. I looked at his private library. It was full of books on dark magic. I got rid of them all. I put them all in a trunk and called the Order through Shacklebolt. They came yesterday and took it away. I would have done it myself, but then I thought that I might accidentally release some dark protective enchantments that they might be laced with. Best to leave it to the professionals. I knew the Order wouldn't say anything, nothing that Rita Skeeter could get her hands on, anyways. I heard she's back writing for the Prophet again, not that the Prophet is doing all that well after this year. In that last issue of the Quibbler (thank your father again for me), Arthur Weasley said in an interview that the Prophet was under Ministry control these past two or three years and covered up all sorts of stuff. Usually I'm not too big of a fan of any Weasley, but this is a different entity entirely. I believe what he said._

_Anyways, now that Dad's gone, I'm going to get rid of any other dark he stuff he might be hiding. Luckily, I think I know where most of it is. He was really proud of it when I was little. He loved to show it off. Good thing he did, so now I can get rid of it._

_I'm not even sure if I want you to reply anymore. I just expect that you won't now. What's the use?_

_Draco_

She flopped on her bed and looked to the large picture on her nightstand.

"He's getting there." Luna said to her mother, watching her young self hug her tightly. She set the letter in front of the picture, vowing to reply later.

Scooting back to the edge of the bed where her portrait of Harry waited to be finished, she noticed that the piece of toast had disappeared from the dresser, and the Malfoy's owl was nowhere to be seen.


	7. Letters of July

Draco was seated at his desk, finishing a letter that he knew would never evoke a reply. He wasn't sure why he wrote anymore. Two months of silence had assured him that it was useless to expect any letters back. He now wrote as if he were merely having a conversation in his head, trying to sort things out, which, of course, was not a bad thing. Draco had many things to sort out, just like when he had sorted through his father's collection of objects enslaved by dark magic, an event that he was currently recounting in his letter to Luna.

_July 5__th__, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_I did as I said. I got rid of Dad's collection. Most of the trouble, though, was getting at it. Until last year, it was stored in the cellar below the drawing room, but then it was moved once my Aunt Bellatrix wanted to keep prisoners there. I'm really, really sorry about that, Luna. I can't tell you how sorry I am. Quite honestly, it haunts me. Anyways, I had an idea of where it was now: the attic of the North turret. As I expected, the door to the turret was locked, but it didn't have a verbal password and it only growled when I tried to magic it open. When I touched the knocker (there wasn't a doorknob like there used to be), it caught fire. I nearly lost my hand. Luckily, I read how to treat burns and avoid scarring a couple weeks ago. No harm done._

_Anyways, I tried to think about where, why and by who the stuff was moved. It came to me that Aunt Bellatrix had requested it in the first place, so I tried stabbing the door with my mother's knife. Aunt Bellatrix had had one just like it. They got them as presents for their 17__th__ birthdays. Mum always keeps it in the bottom of her dresser, but she showed it to me once, can't remember why, though. Well, stabbing it didn't work. The blade wouldn't even scratch the wood. But then I thought of the whip! Sadly, you were right when you said she fancied it, but a good thing you said it, or it might not have occurred to me just then. So I turned the end of my wand into a whip (took a few tries) and whipped the door. The cord seemed to move on its own and wrapped around the knocker. So I gave it a hard tug and the door disappeared._

_I walked in and just as I thought, the ceiling door to the attic was open and the collection was sitting beyond it. I looked at it, but there was nothing clean in the lot so I called the Order again. Mum nearly had a heart attack. She thought they were Aurors coming back for me. Part of me still wishes that they would. But they came, put it all in trunks and carried them off to wherever._

_That should be it. As long as Dad isn't hiding anything else, and I would probably know if he was even though it's certainly not below him, the house has been purged._

_I'm getting tired of this, Luna. It's like I'm talking to a table. Perhaps you're reading this right now and you just don't reply, even though I ask you to over and over again! Is there something you're waiting to hear? Because if there is, I don't have a clue what it is._

_Luna, I'm not writing to you just because I can. I want to hear from you. I want to know if you're alright. How am I supposed to know if you're not? Sure you seemed fine after the battle, but that was months ago! What if you're not? What if you're sick? I wouldn't know because you never answer my letters! I really, really want to hear from you._

_Luna, where are you?_

_Draco_

He wrote her name on the envelope, gave it to the black owl on the windowsill and watched the dark figure of the bird glide off into the early evening sun.

Draco thought of her reaction to yet another letter from him. Would she toss it aside, unopened? Or would she skim through it as if it were an old editorial and then throw it away? Or would she, as Draco so wished she would, open it, read it, send out a reply and watch his mother's owl fly off with her letter while clutching his own with affection? He thought of the way she would be gazing out onto the horizon, the early hues of sunset masking her blonde hair with a peachy gold. The cool breeze that came with the night would bring out a rosy red in her cheeks. In the stillness of the scene, a whispered name might escape her lips... his name.

But this, he reminded himself, could not be. As soon as he thought this, though, he questioned _why_ it could not be. Why _couldn't_ Luna Lovegood read his letter with affection in her heart? Why _couldn't_ she whisper his name to the stars that heard her not? Why couldn't he, Draco Malfoy, imagine her so innocently doing these things in earnest? Then he remembered. Because he was him and could be no one else but him, and although she swore her forgiveness, it was worthless to him if she did not demonstrate it as he thought she would. Was not speaking to him forgiveness? Was the silence, the shunning and the avoidance appropriate consolation in her mind?

This was not the Luna he knew, though! He was sure that this was the work of something other than her, something impossibly cruel, and with this in his head, he could not blame her. Despite his certainty of her innocence, though, he felt very uncertain about the whole affair in general, for it now came to his attention that he did not really know Luna. He knew who she was, but he also knew that there must be something more to her. He craved to know what it was about her that was so desperately captivating, but then he thought that perhaps that it wasn't her that was captivating, but he who merely making her captivating. How was that possible, though? Ah, the simple solution: affection. He could not deny it, nor would he, but his tactic whenever the subject came up was to simply stop dwelling on it. However, he had never failed so miserably all summer as he did now.

He succumbed to it unashamedly, allowing himself to imagine him holding her hand, her fingers cool and soft between his own. How sweet he thought it how in his mind, her silver-grey eyes meeting his own pair of grey and feeling as if seen, truly seen, for the first time in a lifetime. Suddenly, Draco didn't care if it wasn't real. This way, it couldn't end if he didn't want it to, even if it had never begun. Among other things, there now was so much potential for joy.

* * *

_July 12__th__, 1998_

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_it's Draco Malfoy. I am writing to you because I would like to look into healing as a profession. However, I don't know where to start, so anything you know would be helpful. I'm hoping you can set me on the right path._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

His mother's owl was growing impatient. Draco had sealed and addressed the letter, it was ready for delivery, but he would not stop toying with it in his hand. Finally, the owl hopped over and nipped the back of his hand. When the envelope was securely tied to her leg, she took off.

Suddenly, Draco felt as if her were to be sick. His stomach felt hollow and his chest was hot. Anxiety stiffened his back and he found that he could no longer sit comfortably. He began to pace about his room, rubbing his eyes with shaky fingers. His face was a knot with nerves.

Aching with uncertainty, he forced himself into bed and soon fell into a dream-filled sleep. If you were to have seen him just before he drifted off, you would have noticed how his hands slowly became clenched, as if he was experiencing a pain he was trying not to reveal.

* * *

The symptoms of waiting that ailed him so only worsened as time brought no reply. He suddenly wondered if he had been cursed not to receive another letter for the rest of his life. Of course, this would have been impossible, and he knew it, but it still irked him, and it continued to irk him until a week later.

There was a rapping at one of the drawing room windows. Draco opened its French-styled doors and white eagle owl swooped in. He had never seen this owl before. It perched itself regally on the marble mantelpiece in front of the gilded mirror. He untied the letter from it courteously enough, but ripped the envelope open ravenously.

_July 19__th__, 1998_

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_education for healing is mostly based on independent study, a few mentors, and internships. If you meant what you said about considering healing for a career, though you certainly would not need it, then feel free to accept the following offer from Madame Pomfrey._

_She has offered to let you assist her in the hospital wing as hands on experience and teach you privately every evening before dinner from 4:15 to 5:45. She realizes how very few students ever choose to study healing and has always guided those who showed interest._

_If this is what you want, send your confirmation back with my owl and I shall send you recommended books from Madame Pomfrey for you to read before term starts._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

"Yes!" He exclaimed, making the owl jump. He rushed over to the desk and scribbled out his reply. The owl scowled at him as he tied his envelope to her, his mouth wide with an untamed grin. She quickly flew off, leaving Draco pacing about the drawing room, unable to keep still.

* * *

Draco awoke, gasping as he sat up. Unclenching his fists, he saw that the bloody half-moons had returned to his palms. He reached for a steady breath, but failed, so he rushed to the window and threw up the sash. Even with his head sticking out into the cool breeze he felt as if he couldn't get enough air, and he now was just leaning out into the night, certain that he was drowning. He leaned over the windowsill for a good while longer before he sat down at his desk and took up his quill.

_July 26__th__, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

But he didn't know what to say. His hands were trembling with unwritten words, or maybe that was fear. He had gone to sleep that night with visions of the blonde Ravenclaw smiling blithely, but now images of her face contorted with pain flickered behind his eyes. A nastiness boiled up in the back of his throat like an acid and seemed to burn a pit down into the bottom of his stomach.

_I've just had a nightmare far worse than any of the others. It was real. It was about you. It was when you had been captured, when Yaxley and Gibbon brought you here. I saw them break your wand and take you down to the cellar. It was empty then, since you were the first prisoner. It's like it wasn't even a dream, because I was really down there when you came. We all were. You were the Lovegood girl, with that troublesome father of yours. This was his punishment, and then Aunt Bellatrix gave her yours. I don't know if you saw, Luna, but I nearly cried when she Cruciated you._

_I really didn't know you then, I'd just seen you around, but I knew that you were pretty tough. I'd seen people poke fun at you at school. I had done it, myself, but you never gave a damn. You never said anything. You never showed any pain, which made me think that maybe you just didn't feel pain. You were stronger than it. I admired you for it, really. But then, down in the cellar, you did. You felt it, and I only know you felt it by the way you let it show. I finally saw you in pain, something I'd never thought I'd see. Luna Lovegood, invincible and weird 'Loony Lovegood', was in pain. At the hand of my aunt. In my house. Imprisoned._

_But you didn't cry. At first, I thought it was because you were holding it in, but it never came. You were hurting beyond tears. It took all my strength not to not interfere. Yeah, isn't it funny? It was hard for me not to help you, not to make it stop. You better hate me for saying that because it's true. I wanted to help you, but I knew that Aunt Bellatrix would only make it worse. She'd kill you, then probably kill me for standing up for a blood-traitor._

_That wasn't all. I saw you starving down there with Ollivander and Dean Thomas and the goblin from Gringotts. From there on out, I never saw you show pain again, but you had to be in some. You were starving in an empty dark cellar! But no, you just sat there with that look of peacefulness on your face. Your eyes had gone a little hollow, though._

_I just kept seeing you in the cellar. Sometimes you were getting Cruciated, other times you were just curled up on the floor. But your face when Aunt Bellaxtrix Cruciated you... it won't leave my mind. How could she do that? You didn't do anything! How could anyone break you? How could anyone break anyone? I don't know if you heard her, Luna, but she laughed when you screamed._

All at once he wanted to rip himself apart, piece by piece, limb by limb, starting at his chest. How he longed to dig his nails between the halves of his rib cage, wrench them apart and pull out his heart... a heart that had for the last 18 years beat only for terrible causes.

He swallowed and took up his quill once more. He could not stay silent any longer.

_And I know I'm guilty of this, too. Maybe not quite like this, but I've done my share and I never felt any remorse until now. I went 18 years not caring about anyone but myself and what people who I labeled as important thought of me. You know what orders I was given last year? Kill Dumbledore. And I was so ready to do it because the Dark Lord told me to. I valued his trust in me over another life! How could I do that? How could I have been so willing to kill a man who had never done anything wrong for the man who had done everything wrong? All Dumbledore ever did was save lives, and I was too blind to see that there was no type of life, there was no type of wizard. There was only people and their struggle for existence! How could I have been so unfeeling to this all? I never took pity, true pity, on anyone. Not until I had Dumbledore at wand-point in the Astronomy Tower. He was pressed up against the wall, disarmed. He said I didn't have to kill him. He offered to hide me and my family. He said he's get the Order to hide my mother that very night. I took pity, yes, I took pity... on myself. I am telling you, I'm selfish, Luna! The first time I feel sorry for someone, it's for me! I was so tired and I was so scared. I was going to accept, but then my chance was gone. My pity came too late. The Carrow's and Greyback and the lot showed up, and then Snape came. And it was over. Then I pitied Dumbledore. His last helping hand was offered to the man who had sworn to kill him, and that couldn't even help him._

A drop of water fell onto the page, and I tell you that this was not rain. The tear seeped into the parchment, unsettling the ink. Draco could not stop others from joining it.

_Luna, I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want to be unfeeling and selfish. You say remorse cancels out being selfish, but I don't always want to be remorseful, either. I don't want to feel this way. I want to be forgiven. You say I'm forgiven, but I don't feel forgiven. What am I missing? I don't know where to go, Luna._

He felt drained. He had said all he could, and so he signed his name. It would be sent in the morning, as not to disturb his mother's owl now. He didn't return to bed; he was too scared to fall asleep, but instead pondered until sunrise if he would this time receive a reply.


	8. Letters of August

_August 3__rd__, 1998_

_Dear Luna,_

_I'm going to eat my words here (your great-grandmother would love this) and tell you that I'll be studying healing with Madame Pomfrey this year. I'm really excited. I owled Professor McGonagall about it a couple weeks ago and she sent me some books to read before term. One of them was actually written by your great-grandmother! I didn't know she had published anything. I can't wait to talk to her about it._

_I got my Hogwarts letter this morning. We're heading into Diagon Alley tomorrow. Maybe I'll see you there? I'd like to. I kind of miss you, you know, and I'd like to know if you're still alive. Oh, I meant that to be a joke, but, ouch. Sorry._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Of course, this letter would receive no reply, but Draco was content with that. There was, after all, a small chance that he would see her tomorrow, and that was even better than a letter.

* * *

Diagon Alley was packed with students purchasing their school supplies. Their arms were filled with new books and new robes. Heads buried in their supplies lists, they bumped in and out of various shops, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible so they would have time to stop into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The vibrant shop was bursting with smiling faces, most of them perhaps enjoying themselves for the first time in months. Draco was actually very interested in what new inventions might line the shelves now and vowed to stop in later, but this would not happen, and you will soon see why.

Scribbulus Writing Implements was full to the brim with people replenishing their stocks of parchment, quill nibs and inkwells. Draco had already faced four shops just like it and now stood beside the door, pondering if he should wait a bit to go in, in case the crowd would thin out. He sat on a bench and flipped through the pages of his new potions book. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a flash of blonde in between various shoppers. He looked up.

"Well, Daddy told me that he'd get me one for graduation if..." A soft dreamy voice trailed off and was replaced by the rumble of the crowd.

Draco, filled with excitement and panic, jumped up on the bench, standing far taller than anyone else. He scanned the back of heads- there she was! She was walking away next to a wiry redhead, carrying a bag from Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Luna!" He called. She kept walking. "Luna!" He called again. He thought he saw her head twitch. She was getting smaller and smaller to him. "Luna!" He cried out again.

She jerked her head around. He waved to her, expecting her to turn around and perhaps come say hello. Their grey eyes met. The smile from talking to Ginny Weasley faded and in its place was her peaceful empty stare, as if she couldn't see anything at all. She turned back around and continued walking, and soon disappeared from his sight. She hadn't waved back. Draco's hand hung in the air.

A terrible fear assailed him now, and he was unable to pick up a quill for a long time.

* * *

_August 31__st__, 1998_

_I know you saw me in Diagon Alley. You looked right at me._

_I don't understand, Luna. I just called your name. I just waved. I only wanted to talk to you. Were you scared that I'd be mad about the letters? Because I really didn't care, I was too happy to see you! I wasn't going to be mad, not if you waved back or said hello or something._

_Luna, do you hate me? I know you said you didn't back at Hogwarts, but I'm really starting to think you lied to me. You haven't answered my letters for three months and now you won't even look at me... it only makes sense. You hate me, even when you said you wouldn't, but that's what the lie was, I guess._

_Well, Dad's trial was yesterday. Mum and I had to sit in. McGonagall was there. She was standing in for someone in the Wizengamot. She told everyone that he had had a change of alliance. She'd seen us in the Great Hall after the battle. They let him go. He's home now, sleeping. Shacklebolt came up to us after the trial. He said all was forgiven, for we clearly showed remorse. Mum cried._

_Luna, I don't hate you for hating me. I forgive you for it. I'm disappointed, but I won't hold it against you. I tortured your friends, I fought for the wrong side, and I was selfish. I deserve to be hated, and you've seen to that. But that's not who I'm going to be anymore. Even if I'm invisible for the rest of my life, at least I won't be what I was. I'm done with that person, and he's done with me. But I don't care. I forgive it all. I forgive Mum, I forgive Dad, I forgive you, I forgive myself, I forgive the whole wizarding world._

_It's over._

_I suppose this is my last letter to you. See you tomorrow, Luna._

_Draco_

"He's done it, Mum!" Luna cried, showing the letter to the picture on her night stand. She flopped down on her bed, arms splayed blithely. On her ceiling, between the portraits of Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter, was the painting of a pale blonde boy with sharp features, who she beamed up at. "Oh, Draco," she sighed, "I can't wait to see you tomorrow."


	9. A Road Worn and Weathered

The last chapter. Thank you to all of you who have stayed with me until the very end, even though this was only my first fanfiction.

* * *

The door of his compartment slid open. Draco, though, did not think this odd despite having been ignored and left alone the entire train ride. He had been expecting this. The door closed with a soft thud and someone sat down in front of him.

"Hello, Luna," Draco said pleasantly, setting aside his copy of the Quibbler.

"Hello, Draco," Luna bubbled. The bottom of Draco's stomach fell out as Luna pulled from her rucksack a stack of envelopes tied up with a thick yellow ribbon. She set them on her lap, fussing with the bow.

"I got your letters," she said, "thank you for writing."

His blood ran like cement, slow and immobilizing. _'She didn't even open them,'_ he thought despairingly.

"Cat's got your tongue, I see," she giggled. Her pleasant disposition felt to him like a blade in his ribs. He had written her over a dozen letter and she hadn't even opened them? Why bother giving them back then? Why not burn them if she didn't want anything to do with them?

"Well, here they are," she said, smiling warmly and holding the letters out to him. He took them with out looking at them, his eyes glued to her face, trying to understand what this was to mean, but at the same time with a very distinct numbness in his mind.

The weight of the world came with these letters. All his apologies and pleas had gone unread, unheard, by the person who he wanted most to know them. Perhaps he should recount them all now while she was hear, but Luna had already begun speaking.

"You are very brave to leave yourself behind," she said, placing her hand on his. His chest tightened and he felt his cheeks flush. He looked down at the floor, trying to understand what she had just said. He didn't realize Luna had even risen to leave until he felt a wispy strand of blonde hair graze his face. She kissed his cheek softly, lingering by his ear. "The first and last ones are the only ones that really matter," she whispered. "Goodbye, Draco."

The door slid open. It thudded shut.

Draco pondered. Why should only the first and last of his own letters matter? Obviously, none of them had mattered to Luna if she was giving them back unopened. He untied the yellow ribbon. Draco's stomach flipped.

The hand that had addressed these envelopes was clearly not his, but the name that the hand had wrote was. The letters were addressed to him, and in the top left corner, Luna had signed her name. His fingers shook as he opened the first letter.

_May 17th, 1998_

_Dear Draco,_

_You won't be hearing from me soon because I cannot reply to any of your letters, and I know that you won't understand this. However, I don't apologize. I knew that you would write to me. You're looking for the answers, or at least, you will be soon. But I cannot be the one to give them to you. That's your job. How do ever expect to heal anyone else if you cannot heal yourself?_

_It won't be easy. Take your time. But when it's said and done, I'll be back to you._

_Your friend,_

_Luna Lovegood_

Draco's eyes grew hot, but he ignored it. He reached under the stack and withdrew the last letter. He looked restlessly out the window. She had read them after all, and from the look of it, she had replied to them all, too. But why the secrecy? He tore the last envelope open.

_August 31st, 1998_

_Dear Draco,_

_I am so proud of you! You've done it! You've found your answer, your cure! Now stick with it, and carry it with you always._

_Do you see now why I couldn't tell you this? Because it wouldn't have worked. You wouldn't have believed that self-forgiveness was the key. It would have sounded rubbish to you. Only you can save you._

_You can always move on from the person that you were, but without forgiveness, you will never heal from the pain._

_All my love,_

_Luna_

Draco felt oddly at peace. He stowed the letter with its siblings in his trunk. He would read them later. In fact, he would read them for the rest of his life, even when Luna's had burnt out.

The next letters he received from Luna were only two; one, 14 years later, a wedding invitation, and the other 13 years after that, asking him to humor her with a visit.

Draco agreed to visit her at once, but he was blithely unaware that his first visit to Luna since her marriage to Rolf Scamander would be his last.

The village of Ottery St. Catchpole where the Scamander family lived was quaint and cozy as any other, surrounded by grassy hills and plains. A short, wide, brown substantial-looking house sat near the edge of town. It was surrounded by peach trees and other gardens of interest.

The man who answered the door was Rolf. Draco recognized him from the wedding.

"Draco," Rolf said, "come in. Luna said you'd be over." Mismatched shelves lined every wall of the living room holding books and foreign-looking trinkets. The picture frames held scenes of Luna and Rolf in far off places, occasionally joined by a pair of young blonde boys. "Make yourself at home, I'll go wake Luna."

Draco had barely any time to wonder why Luna might have been sleeping if she were expecting guests when the boys from the pictures came bounding down the stairs. One stopped at the landing upon seeing Draco, causing the other one to knock right into him. They both toppled over.

"Oi! Gerroff me!" One said, pushing his brother to the side.

"You alright, boys?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, fine, it didn't hurt," said one. They stood side by side now. They were twins. Draco had heard of course that Luna had had a pair of boys, but the identical twin part must have not reached his ears. He gave a snort. They reminded him of the Weasley twins. He smiled remembering the two brilliant blokes who had taken their lives into their own hands and made so many people happy with their wacky inventions.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?" Asked the other.

"Yeah, that's me. And you are?" He extended a hand.

"Lorcan," said one.

"Lysander," said the other. Draco shook their hands. Lysander gave his brother a look. "Well, if you'll excuse us Mr. Malfoy..." The pair skirted into what must have been the kitchen.

"I see you've met the boys," Rolf said, coming back around the corner.

"How old are they?" Draco asked.

"Just turned eleven."

"Oh, so they'll be going to Hogwarts this upcoming term?"

"Yeah," said Rolf, "well, Luna's ready to see you. She's in her bedroom. Oh, and you're going to want to drink this." Rolf handed him a small clear vial.

"What is it?" Draco asked, swirling the vial.

"It'll keep you from getting sick. Well, I might as well take some more, myself. It only lasts for three hours." He produced from his pocket a vial identical to Draco's and, as it only held a gulp's worth of potion, downed it in one. He shivered and set it on a tall skinny table by the door. Draco absentmindedly followed suit, a terrible sinking feeling growing inside him. A chill passed over his skin and he saw the goosebumps raise on his forearms. Rolf led him to a door down the hall. It was open and Rolf gestured for Draco to enter. This was where they parted ways.

Luna was lying in bed, looking as if she hadn't moved recently. She was propped up by pale blue pillows. Her skin was pale and dull. Her hair looked thinner and silvery white strands had begun to sneak their way in amongst the blonde majority. She smiled when she saw him, but immediately put her hand to her mouth and gave a harsh cough into her handkerchief.

"Hello, Draco," she said, sounding hoarse. "Come, sit by me." She nodded to an arm chair on the other side of the bed in front of a low wide window.

"Luna," Draco said, "what's wrong?"

"You never were one to stall," she sighed happily. Of all her changes, her eyes had stayed the same. They were as dreamy and grey as ever, but perhaps with an older, sadder hue in them.

"Luna," his voice louder, "tell me what's wrong. You're clearly not right."

"Sit down, Draco," she said clearly, "sit by me." He settled into the arm chair. She gazed at him wistfully. "You look so much older..."

"I wonder why, Luna, I'm only nearly 50," he chuckled.

"50, hmm... Well, I'm 46, so what, that makes you 47?"

"Yeah, that's right." Draco said. "Now, Luna," he said gently, "why are you all cooped up in bed? It's only six in the evening, and you can't fool me with saying you were just taking a nap."

"But it's true, I was taking a nap," she chortled. He gave her a look. "Yes, I know what you mean," she said no less pleasantly. She coughed into her handkerchief.

"You're sick," he said, trying to egg her on. She stared at him peacefully. "How long have you been sick?"

"Oh," she sighed, "about a year and a half, maybe."

"A year and half? Luna, have you been to see anyone? Have you gone to St. Mungos?" Draco asked, his insides starting to bubble.

"Yes." She said simply. "It was a rather nice visit."

"Luna!" He exclaimed, exasperated. "Did they give you anything? What is it? Graxely? Consumption? Thatchberg?"

"No, no, it's not as bad that." She gave a great heave and wheezed into the handkerchief. "I got it on a trip."

"Where?" He demanded. He ran his hands over his hair and clenched his jaw.

"The Eglantine Forest," she said. Draco's jaw dropped. He felt as if he were being burned from the inside out with a boiling acid.

"Luna," he whispered, " that forest is illegal to venture into, and for good reason. I warned you, Luna. Don't you remember? At school I told you, I told you that anything you contract there is incurable, unless of course," he began to mumble, "you can get to the Gilead tree... the last Gilead tree is in the Eglantine Forest... the balm of Gilead can heal anything you..." He added hopefully. She just smiled and shook her head.

"No, I didn't make it that far. According to my map, the tree was quite a few more miles in." There was a pause.

"How long have you been bedridden?"

"Three months, now, I'd say."

"Why did you go?" He asked quietly. "To Eglantine?"

"Oh, Draco," Luna said, suppressing a cough as best she could, "there are so many things I haven't found yet."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes."

"Did Rolf know where you were going?"

"No," she looked down at her hands.

"Does he know now?"

"No," she didn't meet his eyes. He paused.

"Luna," he said gently, "this seems... like suicide. You knew what was-"

"I would never do that." She said sternly.

"Then I don't understand-"

"I have children, Draco! And I know firsthand what it's like to lose one's mum!" She whispered fiercely. She meant to go on, but her breath got caught in her throat and she hacked into the handkerchief. Her eyes closed and her hand slipped away from her mouth as she fell back onto her pillows. The white handkerchief was spotted with varying shades of vermilion, showing their age in their hues. Where the blood had met the black thread of the embroidered 'M', it had turned deep auburn. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Sweat glistened on her cheeks.

"So it is," he mumbled, "it's Cypress Lung." Draco had felt fear many times in his life, but none so strong as this. "You're going to die." Her eyes remained closed, but she smiled. "Of all the things to pick up in Eglantine, you pick up the worst of them all."

"It was foolish of me, wasn't it?" Luna said faintly. "I thought that if something should happen to me like this, I'd just go to the Gilead tree and take care of it, but I was mistaken." She coughed and sputtered again. "Daddy had always promised to take me there one day, despite the prohibition. He never did like the Ministry much, so you can understand why he didn't mind disregarding the rules in front of me." Her eyes fluttered open. "Now, we have a bit of business to discuss."

"Business?" He asked.

"Yes, Draco, business." She replied. "How long do I have?" He gave her a long hard look, but she would not avert her eyes.

"You say you've been bedridden three months?" She nodded. "Then that gives you at best two."

"Two months," she said conversationally. "Now, about my boys-"

"Lorcan and Lysander?" Draco said, a ghost of a grin coming to his lips.

"Yes, the twins," she said warmly, "they're going to Hogwarts this September, by which time you say I'll be sleeping." Draco cringed. "You're still working in the hospital wing, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," he said, a bit apprehensive, "but this year was going to be my last year."

"How long have you been at Hogwarts?" She asked.

"Eight years now, the year after Scorpius started, so yes, eight years." Draco answered.

"I'm glad to hear McGonagall keeps offering you a contract." She said thoughtfully.

"You want me to... stay for your sons?" Draco asked.

"Yes, I do." Luna said sadly. "Since, as you say, they won't have me from August on out, I would really like it if someone were there for them at school. Rolf just can't do that." She struggled to sit up a bit. "Draco," she took his hands in hers, "do me this favor. Please. Watch over my children while they're at school. You won't have to do all that much. Just check in with them and don't let anyone call them loony and help them stay focused on their studies. For me?"

The pair of grey eyes met. Draco brought her hands to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.

"Of course, Luna," he said, his chest tight. She pressed her palms to his cheeks and turned his face up to hers.

"Thank you, Draco." And there was a Luna many of her colleagues had thought they'd never see. Not a dreamy little girl silently heartbroken, but a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles.

"I still love you, you know," Draco said heavily.

"I know," Luna said, "I've always known. I just hope that you know the same." She leaned back and coughed. "But don't despair about it now. We wanted different things, after all."

"You wanted to travel the world," Draco agreed, "and I just wanted to repay my debts."

"And you have, " Luna said, letting him take her hands. "I'm so proud of you. You've done it, Draco, you've really done it." She sniffled and coughed again, this time so violently that a bloody chunk of something came out onto her handkerchief, but she did not let Draco see this. "Please don't come back to visit me." Draco blinked. "It will only get worse from here, and I don't want you to remember me any worse than this."

"Luna," he said disbelievingly, "that's even harder than asking me to work for seven more years."

"But it's the way I want it."

"Who's to say you get everything you want?"

"I don't, and I haven't, so please help me in that endeavor." She sighed. "Besides, who's to say _you_ get everything you want?" Draco thought long and hard about this; to honor the wishes of a dying friend or to satisfy his own vain desires.

"But there are so many things I want you to know!" He said desperately.

"Then tell me," she said simply. She had caught him. "Draco, please don't come back." Despite the harsh meaning of her words, they resonated with him. Her eyes, though sad, were warm and pleading. He nodded solemnly. "Thank you."

But Draco couldn't speak. To leave her that day, with a cure impossible, knowing that she would only suffer, had begun to suffocate him. It was if his mind was being Cruciated. He then knew what was happening; his heart was breaking.

He stood up and kissed her forehead. "I forgive you," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Draco." She kissed his cheek and let him walk away. He would walk for a long time once he left the Scamander house. Astoria would be worried when he showed up to the Manor in the late morning the next day, and when she would ask him where he'd been, he could not quite tell her. He was back on a road worn and weathered, wandering with Luna in the fields of sunrise.


End file.
